


all work and no play (makes Arthur a horny boy)

by longlivetheprat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Modern AU, Silly boys being silly, also mutual wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longlivetheprat/pseuds/longlivetheprat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur doesn't think he can survive another minute of this boring business meeting, but then Merlin arrives and suddenly he can't make it last long enough. And he's not just talking about the meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all work and no play (makes Arthur a horny boy)

**Author's Note:**

> ALL THE THANKS to the SUPREMELY FABULOUS memoriesentwined who managed to breathe life into my dull writing and encouraged me to use BODAAAYY LANGUAGE.

Arthur’s fairly certain he’s going to be arrested before the night is over. That is, if his father doesn’t kill him first. He grits his teeth and attempts to control the urge to murder the two men sitting in front of him, prattling on about budgets and shortages. Really, there’s no way a double murder would go unnoticed.

Arthur startles when he hears his name and turns to address the client – _Edward? Edwin?_

“What was that, Sir?” he asks, eyeing the butter knife.

“I was simply proposing that we shift the deadline forward by a week while taking into consideration the depleting costs of...” Arthur’s eyes wander to the deep red curtains draped cross one wall of the dimly lit restaurant. He is instantly reminded of the thick draperies in his father’s office, blocking the light that he’s been told once filtered through the large window behind the desk. It’s eerie, that office; Arthur avoids it as much as he possibly can.

Three days ago was the first time in a year he’d been called into it, and he’d walked in warily.

“Ah, Arthur,” his father had greeted, his smile turning spooky in the half-light. “Come in, I’ve a request to make of you.”

Arthur knew from experience that that line never led to anything good.

Blinking blearily at his pasta, Arthur now knows he was right.

He fidgets with his tie and nods politely when his table mates halt in their spiels and turn to him.

Honestly, he would much rather have conducted this by email. It was only because of his father’s “request” (read: _demand_ ) that Arthur grudgingly invited the businessmen to dinner in order to sort out the deal. (Though that time in his father’s office did turn out to be the first time his father showed anything like pride towards Arthur, so that may have factored a little bit into his acquiescence.)

Now that he thinks about it, though, where’s the third invitee? Arthur glances around the table, but Dr. Gaius isn’t there.

Dr. Gaius is the only one Arthur was looking forward to meeting tonight, partly because he’s known the old physician since Arthur was a baby (though Gaius knew his father even before then) but mostly because he’s the only one besides Uther who knew Arthur’s mother – and his father was certainly never open to discussion on that front.

Arthur glances at his watch; it’s forty minutes after he was meant to show up, and Gaius is always punctual. He’s just wondering if something has happened and has already got Gaius’s number halfway typed into his phone when he hears quickly approaching footsteps and a gasped, “Sorry I’m late.”

Arthur looks up at a harried-looking young man, can’t be more than twenty, with a shock of dark hair, a suit that is at least two sizes too big, and enormous ears that wouldn’t look out of place on an elephant.

“I’m so sorry,” the man apologizes again, fidgeting with his already crooked tie. “There was a bit of an accident with the isopropyl alcohol and then I got stuck in traffic on the way and-”

Arthur clears his throat. “And who are you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

The man flushes. “Oh, right. Sorry. Um, I’m Merlin.” Arthur’s other eyebrow goes up and Merlin scratches at his chin. Arthur’s eyes follow the movement of his fingers. “Dr. Gaius sent me. He’s been dispatched elsewhere and has asked me to give you his apologies.”

“Oh.” Arthur frowns. “I see.”

There’s a silence, and then Merlin says awkwardly, “I’ll be, um, sitting in for him tonight. He gave me his proposal.” Merlin fumbles around in his briefcase for a moment before extracting a sheaf of papers, which he hands to Arthur. “You are Arthur Pendragon, right?” Merlin asks belatedly.

Arthur restrains himself from rolling his eyes with willpower he didn’t know he had and scans the papers. The proposal seems workable.

Arthur looks up, annoyed. “Well? Why are you still standing?”

Merlin sits down immediately, nearly knocking over the chair in his haste. Arthur covers his amused snort with a cough, and Merlin flushes again. Arthur didn’t know it was humanly possible to be _that_ red.

“Would you like to order something?” Arthur asks, passing him a menu and signaling a waiter. Merlin’s face grows more and more distressed as he stares at the menu, and he disappears behind it for a long moment before giving Arthur a desperate look.

Arthur turns to the waiter. “Il aura la tomate et basilic penne s'il vous plait,” he says, hoping Merlin likes pasta. The waiter nods and takes the menu, and when Arthur sees Merlin’s face again, it’s obvious he’s impressed.

“You speak French,” Merlin says.

“Of course,” says Arthur, preening a bit at Merlin’s astonished tone. He clears his throat. “So, Merlin, how’s the apothecary?”

Merlin instantly brightens. “Business is booming,” he says excitedly. “Me and Gaius didn’t know what to do, how to handle everything all at once. We had to hire a ton more employees to manage the rush. That’s, er, why Gaius got held up today. We had a special order and of course he wouldn’t trust me with it, says I’m too clumsy-” He clears his throat, blushing beet red. “Anyway, yeah. We’re doing well.”

Arthur squints at the man, fighting the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “How old did you say you were?” he asks.

“I didn’t.” Merlin ducks his head. “But I’m twenty-one.”

Older than he looked then, but still young. “And you’re Gaius’s employee?”

“Sort of. I’m his nephew.”

Arthur nods while trying to remember Gaius ever having mentioned something about a nephew. He draws a blank.

“This is Mr. Muirden and Mr. De Bois.” Arthur gestures to the men respectively, and he doesn’t know where those names came from but the men are nodding. “I’ve already heard their stipulations.” Arthur passes Merlin two navy-colored binders. “Now, what does Dr. Gaius have to offer?”

“It’s all in the papers,” Merlin insists, gesturing to the portfolio.

Arthur leans forward and folds his hands on the table, looking into Merlin’s eyes. (They’re incredibly blue, he notices.) “I want to hear it from you.”

Reluctantly, Merlin nods. He drags his chair closer, mimicking Arthur’s position, and begins.

When Merlin does, he doesn’t stop. Arthur is surprised by Merlin’s knowledge of chemicals and their uses (“You only really need an ounce of it for the battery; too much’ll lower the battery power, and too little will shut the whole thing down.”), and he’s impressed by the way he states his point with conviction (“I may not own a company, Mr. Pendragon-” “Arthur.” “-Arthur, but I know for a fact that polyols and isocyanates don’t mix.”), as if he knows he’s going to win in the end. Arthur concedes to most of his points, but when he does strike up an opposition, Merlin counters him so smoothly that Arthur has no choice but to give in. And when Arthur _does_ win, the look of respect in Merlin’s eyes makes his chest swell. He’s never sparred with anyone so thoroughly, never imagined this verbal repartee could be so _exhilarating_. His heart is pumping fast through it all, and by the time they reach an agreement, he’s painfully, embarrassingly hard.

It’s not just the arguing. It’s the way Merlin’s periwinkle eyes twinkle when he’s roused (and, Arthur imagines, _a_ roused, but he tries not to think about that) and the way his ridiculous ears turn red all the way to the tips when Merlin leans forward to make his argument, and Arthur finds himself wanting to nibble on them to see if they’ll turn even redder.

 “Excuse me a moment,” Arthur says, strangled, and turns a bit red himself when he realizes everyone’s been staring, waiting for him to say something. “I’ve just got to use the loo.”

He barely stops himself from running, but with the way he ends up walking he may as well not have tried. He flings the door open and stumbles into a stall, throwing the lock behind him and collapsing into the wall. His belt is open and he’s fumbling himself out of his pants before he knows it. He sighs in relief when his hand wraps around his cock, finally, and begins to pull. He thumbs the head and imagines its Merlin’s tongue instead, gliding over the slit. The pleasure this image induces draws an uncontrolled moan from his throat, and he quickly stuffs his knuckles into his mouth, biting hard. He continues to stroke himself with his right hand, and he’s so close already, and then he hears the bathroom door open and freezes in place.

There are footsteps padding across the floor, frantic yet hesitant, and those too-long pant legs look familiar, somehow, as they make their way to the stall beside his. There’s the sound of a zipper being drawn, a breath being let out, and then – oh God, Arthur forgets to breathe because then there’s a moan, short but pleasure-filled, before it’s quickly stifled and all he can hear for a long moment is the rustling of fabric. Arthur lets out his breath, gradually, heart pounding. His hand on his cock resumes its strokes, deliberately, slowly at first, and he thinks he’s never going to come like this, he needs more, harder. He listens closely, but he doesn’t hear anything from the other stall, and he strokes himself a little harder, a little faster. He lets out an open-mouthed gasp, and realizes too late that his left hand has dropped from his mouth and the sound echoes loudly through the room.

“Who is it?” the man in the other stall asks, hoarsely. Arthur thinks he recognizes the voice but he’s not sure, and he pushes the thought aside in favor of a drawn-out moan. There is silence for a moment, save for Arthur’s heavy breathing, and then – yes, there is the distinct sound of skin on skin, and holy hell Arthur is wanking off with a stranger. He is having a mutual wank with someone he doesn’t know while thinking about someone else he left waiting at a table mere yards away. This is so screwed up, but Arthur groans out, “Yes, God yes,” as his movements grow faster, his hand squeezing as it slides over his length, mimicking the way Merlin’s arse must feel clenched around his. “Fuck!”

“I’m- I’m so close,” Arthur hears from the other stall, and his movements become frantic now, uninhibited as he strives for that peak that he can feel closing in on him like a vice. He gathers the pre-come from the head and swipes it over his cock, once, twice, and then he’s coming, barely restraining himself from screaming out Merlin’s name, but screaming nonetheless.

A similar cry comes from beside him, nearly at the same time, and he listens to the other man gasp out his release while Arthur shudders through the aftershocks. He feels the man collapse against the other side of Arthur’s wall, and suddenly they’re back-to-back, breathing hard, only a thin wall separating them.

Eventually, Arthur comes down from his orgasm, and there’s nothing left now except embarrassment as he tucks his flaccid cock back into his pants and pulls up his trousers.

“Um,” Arthur says once he’s wiped his hand on several paper towels and tossed them into the loo. He jumps when the toilet automatically flushes, and then wonders if he should make a run for it before the sound subsides. But then there’s only silence and embarrassment again, thick and palpable between the two of them.

The other man speaks then, thankfully, because Arthur thinks he might lose it if the tension isn’t broken. “I’ll leave first,” the man says, voice normal now. “You can follow after I’m gone.”

Arthur nods, and then realizes the man can’t see it and voices his agreement. He really doesn’t want to see the man because he just knows it’s going to be awkward, mostly because he’s been thinking about another man the entire time.

Arthur hears the lock grind open, and then the creak of the stall door before footsteps make their way back across. The tap turns on just as Arthur thinks, wait, I really do recognize those pants, and that voice is definitely familiar, and then his eyes go wide. Heart in his throat, Arthur opens the door and steps out to a face-full of Merlin, hands dripping with water, and Arthur imagines them dripping with come the way they must have been just moments ago.

Merlin staggers back a few steps. “Arthur, I-” he begins, but really, that’s enough talking, and Arthur cuts him off with a long, slow kiss, burying his hands in Merlin’s hair to keep him in place, to keep him from running.

Except Merlin doesn’t seem like he’s going to run. In fact, after the initial shock, he’s melting against Arthur, pulling him closer by his collar, sliding a hand around his neck and stroking, just so. Arthur moans into his mouth.  

They draw apart for a moment, just long enough to catch their breaths, before diving back in for more. When they next pull apart, Merlin tucks his head into the crook of Arthur’s shoulder and just breathes, and Arthur marvels at how intimate it feels when they just wanked off together moments ago. Arthur doesn’t know what to say, but he’s Arthur so he has to say something, has to take charge because his control is quickly slipping from his fingers, so he blurts out, “That was the best orgasm of my life.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Arthur flinches because _really_ , that was the best he could come up with?

Merlin shrugs and lifts his head. “I’ve had better,” he says, but there’s a grin poking up his cheeks that says otherwise.

Arthur mock-scowls, trying (and failing) to cover his own smile. “That’s because you didn’t have me touching you,” he says matter-of-factly, and then lowers his voice. “Next time I’ll make you come so hard you’ll black out.”

By the time he realizes what he’s said, the other man’s eyes are going wide.

“Next time?” Merlin squeaks.

“I mean, if you want, that is.” Arthur clears his throat. “You don’t have to… I just thought...”

Arthur tries to extricate himself from Merlin, slapping himself internally for being so stupid, because he really should have known this would just be a one-off. After all, Merlin had been the one to suggest leaving separately…

But then Merlin’s hand closes around his wrist and pulls him back into a kiss that has Arthur completely confused and helplessly aroused. Again.

Merlin smiles as he releases Arthur and says, “I’d like that.” And Arthur’s heart flutters in his chest and an uncontrollable smile spreads across his face

 _God_ , Arthur is already so, so whipped.

It’s at just that moment that Arthur remembers they’re in the middle of a business meeting.

Merlin must see something in Arthur’s face because he steps back a little, clears his throat, and says those words that Arthur doesn’t want to hear: “We should go. They’re probably beginning to wonder.”

Arthur wants to say sod them, because suddenly the whole murder idea doesn’t seem so bad if it means he gets to spend more time with Merlin. But the both of them still have a duty to fulfill. He nods reluctantly and gestures for Merlin to leave first, but Merlin shakes his head and, with a last press of his lips, pushes Arthur towards the door instead.

Arthur leaves while surreptitiously smoothing himself down to get rid of that just-shagged look, except he doesn’t think he quite manages it because when he gets back to the table, Prattler and Scary Asian both give him The Eyebrow, and he thinks it might have something to do with the smile that refuses to leave his face, or the way he practically gawps at Merlin when he emerges minutes later, looking cool as can be. But even though Arthur knows he should be embarrassed right now, and they’re probably going to report this to his father, he can’t quite bring himself to care.  

~*~

An hour later, when the restaurant staff is giving them looks and everyone else has cleared out, Arthur is signing the last contract. “And that is finished,” he says with a flourish, lifting his pen neatly and handing the document to Mr. De Bois, who shakes his hand rather tightly and gives Arthur a slimy grin before taking his leave. Arthur turns to Mr. Muirden then and shakes his hand as well. Mr. Muirden nods and glances between Merlin and Arthur pointedly for a moment before taking off as well, a slight smirk on his face.

Arthur watches him walk away, only because he can’t bring himself to look at Merlin just yet, can’t bear to say goodbye. Eventually he closes his eyes with a sigh and when he opens them he’s looking into Merlin’s face. Arthur awkwardly holds out his hand, and after a moment Merlin shakes it, holding on for a bit longer than is decidedly proper. Merlin looks amused, for some reason, and Arthur is confused until he feels something rough pressed into his palm. Arthur’s eyes widen, and Merlin smiles.

“It was _very_ nice doing business with you, Mr. Pendragon,” Merlin says with hooded eyes, and Arthur doesn’t think he’s imagining that husky tone in his voice. Then Merlin is gone, slipping out of the restaurant and out of sight.

Arthur stands there a moment, tucking the thing in his palm, which turns out to be a folded up slip of paper, into his pocket to be examined later. Slowly, he scrapes his belongings from the table and makes his way out of the restaurant, nodding to the doorman, who lets the door shut behind him with a slam. The valet hands Arthur his keys with a respectful incline of his head, and Arthur waves him off. He slips into his car and sits there a minute, not moving just yet, because he’s realized something: he’d forgotten to get Merlin’s phone number.  God, _now_ how is he going to meet him again? He _has to_ , and Merlin had said he wanted to, only Arthur was just so _stupid-_

Something pokes him in the arse as he shifts in his seat, and he remembers: the paper! Arthur shoves his hand into his pocket and fishes out the note. He unfolds it with shaking fingers, nearly dropping it twice, finally managing to get it open only to realize he can’t read it in the dark. Cursing, he feels above him for the light and flicks it on. He scans the note quickly and then sinks back into his seat, letting out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

And then he laughs.

And laughs.

And oh God, he can’t _breathe_ because right there, on the paper, penned in Merlin’s inelegant scrawl, is most definitely a phone number. And as if that wasn’t invitation enough, below that are the words:

_I’m holding you to that orgasm._

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur’s French courtesy of Google translate. It roughly translates to: “He will have the tomato basil penne, please."


End file.
